


if you’re not you, then what are we?

by hideandseek



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideandseek/pseuds/hideandseek
Summary: He should have known. Lance was immature, insensitive, and often tactless. But he was also a hell of a lot more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. The Shiro that came back to them wasn’t the same. And yet, there were so many versions of Shiro living inside Lance that it was nearly impossible to discern between them.





	if you’re not you, then what are we?

**Author's Note:**

> in which lance loves every part of shiro, for better or for worse.

 

 

 

He should have known.

 

Lance was immature, insensitive, and often tactless. But he was also a hell of a lot more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. The Shiro that came back to them wasn’t the same. And yet, there were so many versions of Shiro living inside Lance that it was nearly impossible to discern between them.

 

\----

 

First, there was the boy at Garrison, the one who even back then people forgot was _just a boy._ But Shiro took to authority like water, and Lance can still recall the warmth of his hands as he carefully helped him down the barbed gates of the academy oh so many summers ago.

 

Lance was half terrified, half aroused at the sight of Garrisons’ Golden Boy watching him sneak back into campus after a rather disappointing night out, so much so that he nearly lost his footing and fell on his ass. Shiro’s hands steadied him instantly, and he set Lance on the ground like a small child, a bemused smile quirking on his lips.

 

“Now, what do we have here?”

 

It wasn’t typical freshman behavior, sneaking out every other Friday night to hitch a ride to the nearest bar. The Garrison wasn’t a college, it was a serious and established institution for space exploration. It kept even the fourth year students under constant and strict supervision. Lance had made himself quite comfortable his first year, becoming fast friends with his roommate and quickly falling into the annoying yet lovable category in the eyes of his peers. Even the instructors had a soft spot for him, scolding him for his antics in a way that reminded him of his parents. It wasn’t necessarily an act, but it was something Lance was well aware of.

 

No one suspected anything from the start. Sure, Lance was a ‘troublemaker’. But his trouble mainly consisted of spit balls and corny pick up lines. Exasperating, but ultimately harmless.

 

Harmless wasn’t exactly the look Lance was going for on this sweltering night in June. His jeans were basically a second skin, and the tank top he’d guiltily stolen from Hunk’s closet hung obscenely low. It took a few tries but Lance was nothing but patient when it came to figuring out what could get the most eyes on him. The way everyone at the bar stared told him he’d succeeded.

 

It grew into an addiction. More than the alcohol, Lance got drunk off the thrill of the attention. The way strangers would gaze at him, like he was exactly what they wanted, what they needed. It never failed to make Lance thrum with excitement. 

 

Unfortunately, that was as far as it went. It was his fifth time at that particular bar, and while his pretty face scored him a couple of beers each time, nothing could dampen the particular brand of awkward Lance exuded the minute someone showed genuine interest in him. Tonight had ended with him spilling his drink into the lap of a tall sandy haired biker, and while the man had laughed it off, Lance left burning with embarrassment. What kind of person goes out so often and _still_ doesn't manage to get laid?

 

Lance contemplated that and other existential question as he gaped at Takashi Shirogane. The fourth year was eyeing his attire with a quirked eyebrow, and _jesus why was judgemental Shiro so attractive??_ The truth was that, even then, any version of Shiro was unfairly attractive and a detriment to public safety. To say Lance had a massive embarrassing crush on the upperclassmen would be the understatement of the century, but to his defense so did ninety percent of the student body. It all stemmed from the common knowledge that Shiro was not only _hot_ but innately _good._  

 

“Oh you know, thought I’d dress up and just… climb up and down a fence. For fun,” Lance joked weakly, prepared for the unavoidable lecture. Shiro may have held a starring role in nearly all of his dreams (in fact, even before getting accepted to The Garrison, Lance saw Shiro’s face on a poster and nearly cried), but he was also a deputy officer. No doubt he’d been on patrol duty when he caught Lance being an idiot. Part of Shiro's _goodness_ was his strict adherence to the rules. Lance was breaking about eleven of them of them. 

 

“You have a strange definition of fun, Lance” Shiro chuckled, and Lance knees nearly gave out at the knowledge that Takashi Shirogane _knew his name_. His stagger must have been visible, because Shiro reached out to steady him again. He didn't seem reproachful at all, instead he looked at Lance strangely, as if he was really seeing him for the first time.

 

“How do you know my name?” Lance blurted out, too awed to be embarrassed. Shiro coughed, a hint of a redness appearing on his ears. It was incredibly endearing, and Lance was certain this was how he was going to die.

 

“You don’t exactly fly under the radar,” Shiro began, _shyly?_ He looked somewhere over Lance’s shoulder before continuing, “...which isn’t a bad thing. You just always look like you’re having fun.” Lance winced internally, recalling just last week at lunch when he stuffed two tangerines in his mouth and chased Hunk with his best sea lion impression. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Shiro composed himself, his eyes falling to Lance’s exposed collarbones. He smirked, and now Lance was convinced _this_ was how he was going to die.

 

“However,” Shiro paused, looking him up and down slowly, “I didn’t know you had this kind of fun.” Maybe it was the two beers finally kicking in or the sheer adrenaline of having Shiro so close to him, but something compelled Lance to lean forward and tilt his head slightly, eyes wide and innocent. His tank top was slipping off his shoulder, and Shiro tracked the movement. 

 

“Should I show you?”

 

In a split second, Shiro’s eyes sharpened. The molten grey darkened to an impossible black. Lance’s breath hitched when he felt a large hand at the small of his back, pulling him even closer. He could feel Shiro’s breath near the shell of his ear.

 

“Don’t make promises you can't keep.”

 

Suddenly, Shiro stepped away and Lance immediately missed the warmth. He grinned in a playful boyish way that made him look far younger than his twenty-two years, and took Lance’s hand into his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”

 

Lance went along, flushed and dazed. The whole night felt like one of his ridiculous daydreams, but the occasional squeeze Shiro gave his hand when they quietly passed the other patrolling officers reminded him that it was all too real. When they finally reached his dorm, Shiro let go rather regretfully. They stood outside his door, the air between them charged with something neither of them could name.

 

“Next time, use the south gate,” Shiro began, rubbing the back of his neck, “we usually don’t patrol that area because it’s so far from the dorms. You won’t get caught there.” Lance nodded stiffly, not yet able to formulate a coherent reply.

 

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice far too soft. Lance began to go into his room, fully aware he wasn’t going to able to sleep at all that night, aware he was going to spend hours and hours analyzing what had just transpired.

 

“Wait--,” Lance nearly gave himself a whiplash turning around so quickly. Shiro stared at him, mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “You know… about Kerberos, right?” he finally asked. Lance nodded, Iverson had proudly announced to the student body that Shiro would be the youngest pilot in history to partake in such a mission. The launch date was set to be at the end of the month, just a few short weeks away.

 

“I’m going to be gone for a couple months,” Shiro began, “But when I come back, maybe we can--,”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Lance, you didn’t even let me finish--,”

 

“I don’t care, it’s a yes.” Shiro laughed loudly, and the sound echoed in the deserted hallway. Lance smiled like an idiot, but he found himself not really caring. Shiro looked at him with what could only be described as exasperated fondness, and Lance wondered just how he could have missed this.

 

“Then, it’s a date,” Shiro whispered, and Lance’s heart felt far too big for his chest.

 

They parted ways, Shiro giving his hand a final squeeze. Lance shut his door, and slid down against it in typical teen movie fashion. Takashi Shirogane had asked _him_ on a date. It sounded like a lie, even to him. But then he heard a ding from his comm.

 

_goodnight, lance._

 

The launch came just a few days before class ended. Attendance was not mandatory, but Lance found himself tucked behind his upperclassmen, peeking at the proceedings. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Shiro looked amazing in his launch gear. Excitement clung to the air, and Lance listened in as people shared stories about _the_ Takashi Shirogane, stories of talent and kindness, stories he’d never heard before. Suddenly, Lance felt very small.

 

The moment they shared and the littering of messages on his comm from the past weeks seemed insignificant in comparison to the grandness of it all. Lance was unsure if he really belonged there, unsure if he should have come at all. But, in the midst of the noise and chatter, Shiro caught his eye and gave him a small grin. They held each other's gaze until it was time for take off, and Lance continued to watch the shuttle until disappeared into the clear morning sky.

 

Lance knew in that moment that he wanted to know Shiro. Not Officer Shirogane, or Garrisons’ Golden Boy, or even the perfect Takashi of his fantasies.

 

He wanted to know _him._ The real Shiro, the one that was tangible and flawed. The one that in all honesty might hurt him. Remembering Shiro’s smile before take off, Lance thought he might just get the chance.

 

 

 

 

 He doesn't.

 

 

 

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> fyi, i always imagined the garrison as more of a post secondary institution, so characters are aged as such i.e. lance and his peers are 18 and shiro is 22.
> 
> if you’ve read this far, thank you. feel free to talk shit @ me: 
> 
> shirogain.tumblr.com


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